


Buy a clue

by asifcaves



Category: Chasing Amy (1995)
Genre: M/M, One Shot, Pre-Canon, a reflection on Banky's feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 16:14:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4107118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asifcaves/pseuds/asifcaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To ask for anything more would be to invite change into the warmth and ease of their routine, to open the door wide for all sorts of things that might maybe destroy Banky from the outside in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buy a clue

**Author's Note:**

> Super short, more of a writing exercise than anything else.   
> Banky's definitely not the pining type.

Sometimes they go out to bars, shitty little holes-in-the-wall, dives that leave them smelling like beer and cigarettes for days after.

Banky always sets up shop at the pool tables and scams the hell out of drunks. He picks fights, gets wasted. Mostly though, he watches Holden pull.

Girls, some of them anyway, go crazy for him. That Cheshire Cat grin, the indolent gleam in his eyes. Those broad shoulders.

They flock to him like ants to sugar water, climbing and kicking at each other for a chance to bask in his glow. It makes Banky laugh.

Usually Holden will catch his eye across the room on his way out the door, arm wrapped around some ripe little co-ed, and grin almost bashfully, roll his eyes. Banky will thrust his hips, hump the side of the pool table, and he'll get the finger for his trouble.

In the morning he'll make fun of the girl, go after her viciously, until Holden finally concedes, admits that ' _yeah she was pretty pathetic wasn't she. She'd have to be pretty desperate to go after me, yeah Banky I get it!'_

Like he hasn't jerked off, hissing Holden's name around the fist stuffed in his mouth, stifling noises he maybe even wants Holden to hear, as if he's going to come in and sit on the edge of Banky's bed and say, "Hey man, I just thought I'd see if you needed a hand-" and fuck if the thought of Holden's broad hand on his skin- his cock- isn't enough to send him over the edge every single time.

But Banky's- he's not- he doesn't- he just doesn't like change.

He likes the way things are now, the contentment in his belly that curls up like a fat cat in the sun when he and Holden have a night in. When they sit next to each other on the cramped and squashed couch and play video games, when they share a pizza so greasy they're licking it off their hands.

To ask for anything more would be to invite change into the warmth and ease of their routine, to open the door wide for all sorts of things that might maybe destroy Banky from the outside in.

So yeah, fucking Holden would be nice. Great, even. But Banky's the type that doesn't see much sense in playing a game he's not gonna win. 

He sits next to Holden on their grimy couch and keeps his mouth shut. Banky thinks he knows what happiness feels like, and he thinks he isn't kidding himself.

One night Holden falls asleep and shifts so his head plops right into Banky's lap, a warm and solid heat. Banky's fucking breathless, he's broken out in goosebumps, in a cold flop sweat. He pushes his trembling hands into Holden's hair like a man possessed. He smooths his palm over Holden's cheek like he's mapping out the only place he's ever wanted to see.

There's a pain in his chest, a bright burning thing in the middle of his breastbone. He's hard in a way that feels less like lust and more like longing. 

He stays that like that for hours, and Banky can't come up with enough lies to justify a goddamn thing.

Banky looks at Holden and he knows what he wants. Somewhere, a clock starts ticking down. 

They were fifteen when Holden stuck out his sweaty hand and said, "Friends forever?" 

They were fifteen when Banky said, "Yeah," and felt it in his bones. 

-


End file.
